'Twas then I knew what arm unseen
Was round me 'mid the strife,
The blighted hope, the toil uncheered,
The cold, rude storms of life;
And when the reeds on which I leaned
All failed me one by one,
I clasped my pierced and bleeding hands,
And wept, but _not alone._
For He was near me midst the strife,
And, leaning on His arm,
I trod the thorny paths of life,
Safe sheltered from all harm;
The while He whispered to my heart,
"I gave my life for thee!
Then, heavy laden as thou art,
Cast all thy care on me!"
"_On me!_ ON ME!"--oh, gentle word!--
O Sympathy divine!--
O Fount of joy, how deeply stirred,
Within this heart of mine!--
O cool, sweet Waters, how ye stilled
The fever of my brain,--
And soothed the heart-strings that had thrilled
With agonizing pain!
My own,--My Rock!--the heavy tide
May beat in uproar dread,
Calmly 'gainst its unmoving side
I rest my weary head;--
For well I know how deep it strikes
Beneath the raging flood--
My Soul's firm Anchor 'mid the strife,
My Refuge and my God!
THE BEAUTIFUL ARTIST.
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